


Not A Present

by Khylara



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6501592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khylara/pseuds/Khylara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft gives Greg a present. Only, it's not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BastRavenshadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastRavenshadow/gifts).



> This is for Bast - Happy Birthday! This is also for my fellow Shinys - I love you all. Thank You Kindly for putting up with me.

Dinner was over, the dishes had been washed and put away and now the two men were lingering over their wine, simply enjoying the relative quiet and the company. It had been a long week for both of them, with diplomatic incidents and bureaucratic worries on one side, murders and paperwork on the other. Tomorrow would probably be more of the same for both of them with little time for personal desires, but for now they were more than content to sit in front of the crackling fireplace and share a bottle as they cuddled together on the overstuffed leather sofa.

“You’re staring,” Greg Lestrade commented as he took a sip of his wine, looking at his lover over the rim of his glass.

Mycroft Holmes simply smiled. “Has anyone ever told you that you look absolutely captivating by firelight?”

Greg ducked his head to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks. “Sure you don’t need glasses?” he muttered. It wasn’t the first time his lover had made such a comment and it never failed to embarrass him whenever he did.

“My eyesight is perfect and so are you.” Mycroft’s voice was firm, allowing no further argument. Reaching over, he brushed the tip of his finger over his lover’s chin, angling his head up so their eyes could meet. “And you’re even more so when you blush.”

Greg leaned into the touch for a moment before putting his glass down and settling his head on Mycroft’s shoulder. “You’re not so bad either,” he said, sliding his arm around the other man. “Especially when you loosen up a little.” With suit jacket, waistcoat and tie gone, his shirt unbuttoned at the neck and his socked feet up on the coffee table, Mycroft looked more relaxed than he had in days. “And I’m glad things have quieted down a bit for you. You were beginning to worry me there.”

“Was I?” Sliding his own arm around Greg’s shoulders, Mycroft began running his fingers through his lover’s silver hair. “There was no need for you to be.”

“Wasn’t there?” Greg shot Mycroft a look that begged to differ. “In the past four days you’ve gotten about an hour’s worth of sleep thanks to whatever it is you do. I think tonight was the first real meal you’ve eaten in those four days as well. And I know damn well that you’ve been practically living on tea at your office.” At Mycroft’s puzzled little frown Greg explained. “Anthea said as much when I talked to her yesterday.”

“Ah. Well…that explains why she brought me apricot scones and practically ordered me to eat one this afternoon. Stood in front of me and actually watched while I did, too.” Mycroft looked down at Greg. “Your doing?”

“Both of us,” Greg acknowledged with a nod. “She worries about you, too, you know. Says you do too much.”

“That’s not the first time she’s made that complaint.” Mycroft paused to plant a kiss against his lover’s forehead. “And it probably won’t be the last. But it does explain why she also made sure my schedule was clear for the next three days.” Putting his own glass down on the table in front of them, he slid his hand over the one around his waist. “As for the rest…you’ve been just as bad. I think this is the first time I haven’t seen circles under your eyes all week.”

“This is the first time you’ve seen me all week,” Greg corrected.

“Not exactly.”

Greg was about to ask his lover what he meant by that when he remembered just what Mycroft had access to. “Didn’t think CCTV cameras had a close-up view.”

“The ones at my disposal do.” Mycroft planted another kiss in Greg’s hair. “I know you hate being “spied upon”, as you put it…”

“But I know why you did,” Greg interrupted, looking up. He reached up to brush his fingers against Mycroft’s cheek before sliding them upward. “And I missed you, too.” Cupping the back of his lover’s head, Greg drew him into a lingering kiss.

When he was finally let go, Mycroft drew away long enough to pull a small foil-wrapped and silver-bowed box out of his pants pocket. He put it in Greg’s lap. “For you.”

Greg eyed the box with a long-suffering look. “I thought we had agreed no unexpected presents,” he reminded, the tone of his voice saying quite clearly that the two of them had discussed this more than once before.

Mycroft, however, shook his head. “That’s not a present.”

Greg raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?” He looked at the box again. “I may not have your brother’s powers of observation, but that definitely looks like a present to me.”

Picking up his wine glass, Mycroft took a sip. “I assure you it’s not.” There was a pause. “It’s practical. Presents aren’t practical.”

“It’s a little big to be a pair of socks.”

Mycroft shot him a look of fond exasperation as he finished his drink and put the glass back on the table. “Just…open it, Gregory.” Another pause. “Please.”

Picking up the box, Greg put it to his ear and rattled it, grinning when he saw Mycroft roll his eyes. He untied the silver ribbon, laying it aside before he tore open the shiny wrapping paper. Opening the plain black gift box, he stopped and stared at what was nestled in the white tissue paper for a long moment before taking it out. The square silver fob glowed brightly, the flickering light of the fire glinting off of his engraved initials. Attached to the ring, shining sharp and new, was a single key.

He looked up at Mycroft, his eyes wide. “My?” he asked, holding it out to him, his voice trembling just a little.

Very gently Mycroft folded Greg’s fingers over the key ring before cupping his hand over his lover’s, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of the nickname no one else was allowed to use and the look that was currently being directed at him. So much love…what had he done to deserve so much love from this one man? _Please let me be worthy of this,_ he found himself praying, hoping with everything he had that he could come up with the right words and not sound like seven different kinds of an idiot in the process.

“I love you,” he finally began, deciding to tell simple, unvarnished truth. “So very much. You must believe me when I tell you that you make me happier than I ever possibly thought I could be. I miss you when you’re not with me, you’re in my thoughts constantly…which makes it difficult to concentrate on all the other things I need to, believe me.” They shared a smile. “I want you to…I would very much like it if…if you would consider moving in with me.” Greg’s eyes grew even wider as Mycroft went on. “I want us to begin building a life together. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep next to you every night. I want to grow old with you.” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue. “You don’t have to give me an answer now. Take whatever time you need to think on things…but please, Gregory…please consider it.”

Silence. Finally, just as Mycroft’s heart was beginning to sink with fear for having done too much too soon, Greg put his free hand over the one holding his. “Don’t have to. I’d love to live with you.” There was a pause. “On one condition.”

“Anything,” Mycroft said immediately, wondering for a moment just what it could be. He knew Greg wouldn’t ask him to give up his job, just as he wouldn’t ask Greg to give up his. Redecorating, perhaps? Granted, he wasn’t here enough for things to become shabby, but it **was** a little stuffy and pretentious. At least when you considered Greg’s tastes, which could kindly be described as “comfortable”. “Name it.”

Squeezing Mycroft’s long fingers, Greg let go of the hand holding his long enough to dig into his own pants pocket and pull out a small velvet box. “It’s not a present,” he said with a smile when Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“It certainly looks like one,” Mycroft teased even as he took it with shaking fingers. He opened it, his heart skipping a beat at what was nestled inside. “Oh,” he breathed, for once at a loss for words.

“Must’ve hit every jeweler in in the twelve block stretch of London surrounding the Yard,” Greg commented after a moment, leaning forward a little as Mycroft continued to stare. “Finally ended up back at the one closest and the first one I saw. It just…it seemed to fit you.”

“It’s beautiful.” Mycroft ran the edge of his thumb over the shining white band before looking up. It was simple, elegant…perfect. “How long?”

Greg shrugged. “Awhile. Been waiting for…well…I don’t know what I was waiting for. The right time, I guess.” There was a pause. “This…feels like the right time.”

Mycroft stared at it for a long moment before he looked up. “And you’re sure you want this…with me?”

“Of course I’m sure.” A frown crossed Greg’s face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Their eyes met. “As long as I do what I do, there will always be things I’ll be unable to tell you,” Mycroft said, his voice quiet. “Secrets I must keep.”

“I know. And I’m fine with that. Could care less, really.” Greg’s voice softened as well. “You don’t keep secrets about the important things.”

Mycroft’s gaze dropped back to the ring box in his hand. “I promised you I wouldn’t.”

“And I promised you the same. We’ve done a pretty good job of keeping to it so far.” When Mycroft remained silent, Greg reached over and put a hand on his lover’s knee. “What’s really wrong?”

Mycroft shook his head. “I…I’m not quite sure,” he said slowly.

Greg leaned closer. “I know we haven’t talked about anything like this,” he said as he began to rub circles into his lover’s knee. Mycroft was practically rigid in his arms, the relaxed posture from before having vanished completely. His heart sank a little at the sight. “If you don’t want to get married…”

“It’s not that,” Mycroft said quickly.

“Then what is it?” More silence. “My…whatever it is…you can tell me.”

Finally, Mycroft let out a sigh. “Did you know that you’re the first person in my life who has ever wanted something even remotely close to this?” He looked up, meeting Greg’s eyes with his. “The others…and there haven’t been that many…”

Lestrade suddenly understood. “They wanted you to change,” he finished.

After a moment, Mycroft nodded. “You’re the only one who hasn’t asked me to. The only one who has accepted me as I am.”

“Because I love you, My.” Greg’s voice was soft as he reached up to brush his finger along Mycroft’s cheek. “If you were any different you wouldn’t the man I fell in love with.” He moved closer, pressing his body against Mycroft’s. “That’s not all that’s worrying you. I can tell.” When Mycroft let out a sigh Greg rolled his eyes and gently poked him in the ribs. “Come on, then. Out with it.”

After a long moment, Mycroft looked up. “Your life would always be at risk,” he finally said, his voice soft. “I have enemies. You know that. Enemies who wouldn’t hesitate trying to get at me through you.”

“My life’s at risk from the minute I wake up in the morning and step out the door,” Greg countered, his voice soft as well. “Being with you doesn’t make that all that different.” He shrugged. “Besides…I’m a police officer. Been one for a good bit, too. Think I know how to take care of myself.”

“I know that. And you do it admirably well, not only at protecting yourself, but in protecting anyone else who comes down your path.” Mycroft was quiet for a long moment before continuing. “This…my job…goes beyond that. There could be times where I couldn’t protect you.” There was another pause as he worried his lower lip between his teeth. “And there could come a time…when I’m forced to choose.”

_And he doesn’t know what that choice would be now,_ Greg thought. _Before this…before us…he did._ “Then we’ll worry about all that when and if it happens,” he said as he brushed a kiss by Mycroft’s ear. “No sense borrowing trouble before it’s in sight of things. You know that as well as I do.”

“Gregory…”

“Do you love me?”

Mycroft suddenly frowned. “Of course I love you. That’s what I’ve been trying to say.”

“And I love you.” Greg paused. “Far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters.”

Mycroft gave Greg a long look before a small smile appeared on his face. “You really are quite remarkable,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “It really is that simple to you, isn’t it?”

“Course it is. No reason right now for it not to be. And if one comes up sometime in the future, we’ll talk again.” Closing the ring box in Mycroft’s hand, Greg tries to take it from him. “And we can talk about this another time, too.”

To his surprise, Mycroft’s fingers tightened around it, refusing to let the little box go. “No…I’d like to finish talking about this now. If you don’t mind?” He waited for Greg to let the box go before continuing. “I do love you, you know.”

Greg couldn’t help smiling at the gentle, earnest tone of Mycroft’s voice. “I do know.”

“I mean it. You have to know…” Swallowing hard, Mycroft reached out and brushed a finger along Greg’s cheek. “You’re everything to me, Gregory. Simply everything.”

Greg leaned into the touch, wondering vaguely just where Mycroft was going with things. He rarely talked like this, preferring to demonstrate his affection in other, more tangible ways. Like with the key still sitting in Greg’s lap. “I know that, too.”

“Do you, my dear?” Before Greg could answer the question Mycroft did it for him. “No…of course you do. You know. You’ve always known.” There was a pause. “So for you to even suggest that I might not want to spend the rest of my life with you is simply absurd. Ridiculous, even.”

“Well…I’ve always been a bit ridiculous when it comes to you,” Greg said easily. “Nice to know I haven’t changed things.”

“And that is one of the infinite number of things I cherish about you.” He rested his forehead against Greg’s, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So…in answer to your question…yes, Gregory. A most emphatic yes.”

Closing his eyes, Greg let out the breath he had been holding. “Thank God,” he breathed. “Not sure what I would’ve done if you had said no.”

“That was never an option, my dear.” Mycroft’s voice was firm as he held out the box. “Would you put it on me?”

Taking the ring out, Greg slid it onto Mycroft’s finger, his own hands shaking as he did so. It fit perfectly.

Mycroft gazed at it for a long moment, admiring the way the firelight shone over it before reaching over and taking Greg’s hand in his. “We’ll have to find something equally suitable for you,” he murmured as he rested his cheek against Greg’s hair, twining their fingers together.

“You already did.” Stifling a yawn, Greg snuggled into Mycroft’s shoulder as he gestured to the key ring in his lap, his eyes drifting shut. “Perfect fit.”

Pulling the cashmere throw off the back of the sofa, Mycroft settled it over them both as he relaxed further into the sofa cushions. He buried a kiss in Greg’s hair, listening to his lover’s breath even out in sleep. After the week the two of them had suffered through, this was a perfect way to end it in his eyes. “You are, my dear,” he whispered as he tightened his arms around Greg and closed his eyes. “You are.”


End file.
